Blogging away while wondering if the Runner's World magazine I bought at Wal-Mart Sunday night somehow cancels out the Soap Opera Weekly I also purchased...
I am convinced that in the summertime, heat mixes with water causing a chemical reaction which actually gives the water a stronger gravitational pull than that of the land it divides.
Now you won't find this in any standard textbook and there's no Pythagorean Theorem or anything like that for it, but I am persuaded that it is true. (I hope to get my theory added to the Wikipedia entry for "water" soon.) Evidence can be seen in the hordes of people found at lakes, rivers, pools, beaches, water parks, swimming holes, and the like.
And so, I am drawn to the water. Saturday, I went over to my sister's to swim in her above ground pool. And by swim, I mean, lie on a float and allow the sun to deflower my tender, milky white skin.
The deck they are building alongside the pool is about half finished. And that's a good thing, because at first my sister's husband would back his truck up to the edge of the pool so that they could get in and out. I don't want to jinx anything, but we're hoping they'll make the 2008 You Might Be A Redneck If... calendar.
Little Joe, Wolfgang, and I made another trip to Kinlock on Sunday. I don't really understand the appeal of Kinlock to Wolfgang. He can't swim and he won't jump off the rocks. The odd thing is, more times than not, it's his idea to go to Kinlock.
Sunday, he slid down the falls one time, climbed out and sat on a rock for the rest of the time we were there. He seems to enjoy it though. I think the transition to senility will be a smooth one for him.
The two of them are going to New York later this year. Wolfgang was telling me about the place they'll be staying. Apparently, they have to share a bathroom with other guests. Sounds like maybe a hostel to me, but they never called it that. LJ overheard us.
LJ: "I told you Bone wouldn't like that idea at all."
WG: "What do you mean? He didn't say he didn't like it."
LJ: "Did you not see that fear of death look on his face when you told him we'd be sharing a shower with other people?"
True, that situation doesn't really mesh well with my Lysol-spraying, Vitamin C-taking, germophobic lifestyle. I just found it amusing that LJ knew that and wondered how and when picked up on that part of my personality.
I also discovered that LJ has an even worse agedar than I do. While Wolfgang and I were surmising the age of one of the girls there Sunday, LJ overheard us and stated disgustedly, "She's twelve!"
The girl had a tattoo on her lower back and later we saw her smoking a cigarette. So that would have to make her at least, what, fourteen? Pfft. Shows what you know, LJ. Still, I'm unsure if the tramp stamp cigarette defense would hold up in court.
In other Bachelors Gone Wild news, Sunday night at Wal-Mart I came across something in frozen foods that made me wonder if I hadn't slipped on the newly waxed floor, cracked my head open, and ascended to the heavens above: Patio burritos... 33 cents each! Oh my heavens! I got three! I like to melt a slice of American cheese on top of mine in the microwave.
Meanwhile, the water continues to beckon. Jamie called last night to see if I wanted to go to the city pool with her tonight. And Wolfgang, Little Joe, and I are planning a trip to the beach next month.
Ah yes, the ocean. The strongest gravitational pull of all.
"It's two bare feet on the dashboard, young love in an old Ford. Cheap Shades and a tattoo and a Yoo-Hoo bottle on the floorboard..."
Showing posts with label kinlock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kinlock. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Riding In Cars With Boys
Hanging out with Little Joe and Wolfgang is kinda like watching Robin Williams on a talk show. I'm never quite sure what to expect, but I know I'll most likely be entertained. And sometimes scared.
The first weekend of Spring felt like the first weekend of Summer. So LJ, Wolfgang, and I took advantage by heading up to Kinlock Falls Sunday afternoon. Despite temperatures which had been in the 80's seemingly for a week, the water was slightly frigid. I found that out the first time I jumped in, leaving me yelping like a little girl. It was like millions of tiny pin pricks on my delicate, milky white skin. Nature's own little accupuncture therapy, if you will.
As we were leaving, I ran into a girl I knew but couldn't remember her name. (That's not selective memory. That's just bad memory.) We chatted for a few minutes. Meanwhile, LJ had been talking to this guy about the location of another swimming hole, deeper in the forest. We decided we'd look for it.
About a quarter of a mile up the road, I heard a beeping noise, then looked over and said, "Uhh, why does that say low fuel?"
LJ replied, "Oh... uh... I forgot about that. Yeah. We're not going to The Blue Hole today."
So there we were, on a gravel road deep inside the national forest, with LJ's instrument panel reading that we had 27 miles of gas remaining. And I'm estimating it is about 25 miles back to the store. LJ didn't think it was that far and said he was confident we had plenty of gas. Wolfgang and I began to berate LJ. I asked him why he didn't get gas before we left town, especially since I had him stop at a store on the way so that I could get a Mountain Dew!
I should probably mention here that LJ has a history of running out of gas. (And being in wrecks. And staying up for forty-eight straight hours and hallucinating. But those are other stories for another time.) For some illogical reason, he seems to enjoy pushing the limits and seeing just how far his car will go.
I was even riding with him once when, after ignoring my continuous pleas to stop, he ran out of gas in a rather unsavory area of town. In that particular instance, he said not to worry, that the car would restart at least twice after it first ran out of gas. Which would indicate he had done that at least once before. Amazingly enough, it did, and we coasted into the next gas station.
Anyway, back to Sunday. We got back to the store with three miles of gas remaining. Just as we were about to pull in, Wolfgang yelled from the back seat, "Keep going! I want to see how far we could have made it!" Ugh.
They dropped me off at my car. As we pulled back onto the highway, I saw the top start to go up on Little Joe's convertible. He started down the highway with the top standing straight up in the air, almost perfectly vertical. I had no idea what they were doing, but he pulled into someone's driveway. I honked and continued past. My phone rang. It was Wolfgang. I answered but couldn't even manage to say hello. For like twenty seconds, there's nothing but laughter on both ends.
We met back up at LJ's later that night. I walked into the kitchen to get something and noticed three pairs of solid white Reeboks sitting heel-to-toe by the garage door. I nearly pulled out my phone to take a picture. (They were kinda like these except without the navy.) Here were these three pairs of shoes from the 1980's, identical except for the amount of wear.
What?
Does he just keep buying the same style over and over? And if so, where does he still find them? Or did he buy them all in 1989? And why three pairs? Maybe they were the last three pairs ever made, so he wanted to stock up on them. Or maybe he rotates them, like tires, so that they last longer.
So many questions. So few answers...
Again, I never know what to expect, and sometimes I'm scared.
"So put me on a highway, and show me a sign, and take it to the limit one more time..."
The first weekend of Spring felt like the first weekend of Summer. So LJ, Wolfgang, and I took advantage by heading up to Kinlock Falls Sunday afternoon. Despite temperatures which had been in the 80's seemingly for a week, the water was slightly frigid. I found that out the first time I jumped in, leaving me yelping like a little girl. It was like millions of tiny pin pricks on my delicate, milky white skin. Nature's own little accupuncture therapy, if you will.
As we were leaving, I ran into a girl I knew but couldn't remember her name. (That's not selective memory. That's just bad memory.) We chatted for a few minutes. Meanwhile, LJ had been talking to this guy about the location of another swimming hole, deeper in the forest. We decided we'd look for it.
About a quarter of a mile up the road, I heard a beeping noise, then looked over and said, "Uhh, why does that say low fuel?"
LJ replied, "Oh... uh... I forgot about that. Yeah. We're not going to The Blue Hole today."
So there we were, on a gravel road deep inside the national forest, with LJ's instrument panel reading that we had 27 miles of gas remaining. And I'm estimating it is about 25 miles back to the store. LJ didn't think it was that far and said he was confident we had plenty of gas. Wolfgang and I began to berate LJ. I asked him why he didn't get gas before we left town, especially since I had him stop at a store on the way so that I could get a Mountain Dew!
I should probably mention here that LJ has a history of running out of gas. (And being in wrecks. And staying up for forty-eight straight hours and hallucinating. But those are other stories for another time.) For some illogical reason, he seems to enjoy pushing the limits and seeing just how far his car will go.
I was even riding with him once when, after ignoring my continuous pleas to stop, he ran out of gas in a rather unsavory area of town. In that particular instance, he said not to worry, that the car would restart at least twice after it first ran out of gas. Which would indicate he had done that at least once before. Amazingly enough, it did, and we coasted into the next gas station.
Anyway, back to Sunday. We got back to the store with three miles of gas remaining. Just as we were about to pull in, Wolfgang yelled from the back seat, "Keep going! I want to see how far we could have made it!" Ugh.
They dropped me off at my car. As we pulled back onto the highway, I saw the top start to go up on Little Joe's convertible. He started down the highway with the top standing straight up in the air, almost perfectly vertical. I had no idea what they were doing, but he pulled into someone's driveway. I honked and continued past. My phone rang. It was Wolfgang. I answered but couldn't even manage to say hello. For like twenty seconds, there's nothing but laughter on both ends.
We met back up at LJ's later that night. I walked into the kitchen to get something and noticed three pairs of solid white Reeboks sitting heel-to-toe by the garage door. I nearly pulled out my phone to take a picture. (They were kinda like these except without the navy.) Here were these three pairs of shoes from the 1980's, identical except for the amount of wear.
What?
Does he just keep buying the same style over and over? And if so, where does he still find them? Or did he buy them all in 1989? And why three pairs? Maybe they were the last three pairs ever made, so he wanted to stock up on them. Or maybe he rotates them, like tires, so that they last longer.
So many questions. So few answers...
Again, I never know what to expect, and sometimes I'm scared.
"So put me on a highway, and show me a sign, and take it to the limit one more time..."
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